


chasing skirts

by stevebuckiest



Series: skirt steve [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: <3, Bagels, Boys in Skirts, Domestic Bliss, M/M, Male Friendship, Racing, Running, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, anywho this is pretty stevesam friendship centric, bagels ., im pretending cacw never happened and bucky came home after tws, more steve in skirts NOW !!!, steve calling sam sammy, subtle natsharon dating, they arent in this but i mention them, yep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:53:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26395207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevebuckiest/pseuds/stevebuckiest
Summary: “One day,” Sam says casually, voice dangerously calm. He still doesn’t open his eyes. “I am going to tie your laces together. Or piss in your shoes. Maybe even put superglue on the bottoms. Anything to make you stop kicking my ass. You’re a goddamn menace. What’d you do, kidnap the Road Runner and eat him?”Steve pauses for a second and plops down onto the grass next to him, ankles crossing. “Well,” he offers helpfully. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think that would stop me considering I could just take them off. Once you’ve run around barefoot in 1940s New York City, I don’t think your feet can see much worse.” His tone is lighthearted, but Sam still peeks a resentful eye open at him. “Does that road runner comparison make you the Coyote?”(alternatively: steve wears a skirt. sam is a good bro as always)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Series: skirt steve [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918360
Comments: 8
Kudos: 119





	chasing skirts

**Author's Note:**

> i would read skirting expectations before you read this even though i have this fic set before then. you get a better idea of why steve likes wearing skirts so much. but either way, i hope you enjoy!

Really, Steve thinks, Sam should be used to losing bets against him by now. _All_ bets- but for one example:

He knows damn well Sam and Nat had made a bet about when he and Bucky would shack up together after finally getting him home. The joke ended up being on the two of them, though. Steve and Bucky have been shacked up since the forties, it’s not Steve’s fault his own friends had assumed he was _that_ much of a hopeless idiot to spend the better part of a century pining after his best friend without ever letting him know.

They’d _lived_ together. They live together now. Sam and Nat really thought they’d survived all those years without getting their feelings out in the open? He and Bucky deserved the fifty dollar winnings more than either of them. 

Sam had bet against him saying it’d take them at least a year whereas Natasha had decided on a month. Steve’s almost positive she knew even then and just wanted to see Steve’s reaction to Sam’s lack of faith in his romantic prowess- she’s the one who told him about the existence of the bet in the first place, after all.

Immediately after the beans got spilled about the wager in question, Steve had dragged Bucky along to his and Sam’s weekly brunch and tongue kissed his boyfriend square on the mouth as soon as they slid in the back corner booth where Sam was waiting before he could even swallow his first sip of coffee. Serves him right that he’d choked. 

(Steve had still patted him on the back through it- Christ, he wanted to get petty revenge on the guy, not kill his closest friend from the new century over fifty bucks)

Bucky had thought it was hilarious, of course, even when Sam cursed at them and good naturedly informed Steve they’d be paying for his food to make up for forcing him to witness what he’d called “a display of public indecency”. Steve had snorted and let Bucky kiss his cheek after, Sam rolling his eyes and sighing in mock exasperation into his next sip of coffee. 

It was all a show, he knows. They’d all been good sports about it despite the teasing, and Sam has been nothing but happy for the both of them in reality even before he knew they were together- at least after he and Bucky calmed down on their head butting a little. Steve had had to shove them in the backseat of the car together on the road trip they all took with Natasha in order to help force them to work it out.

They’d ended up bonding over complaints over Steve’s “terrible driving” and while Steve had regretted ever meeting them both in the first place in that moment, he was happy about it now. Mostly. Fine, _excluding_ occasions where they ganged up on him. 

Anyways, it wasn’t a real fight or disagreement, just a silly little skirmish over a casual bet among friends. That’s what they always are in the end, but still...Steve sometimes thinks Sam should stop wagering against him for his own stubborn sake considering he hates losing as much as Steve does. Again, _all_ bets- but especially when it comes to bets that have to do with running. 

Case and point: the bet they currently have going on right now.

_“I hope you trip and fall, Rogers!”_

Steve laughs as he laps around Sam yet again. It’s completely reminiscent of the first time they’d done this on the day they’d met, same spot and everything. The only difference being the happy spring in Steve’s step and the SHIELD logo on Sam’s water bottle that’s propped against the tree where Steve finally skids to a stop and spins around on his barely cooled heels to watch a very huffy Sam jog his way over to join him.

He’s still glaring by the time he gets there, flopping over dramatically on the grass and reaching an expectant hand out for Steve to pass his water into. Steve does, eyes crinkling into a smile. 

After lifting his head up to take a few appreciative swigs, Sam settles back down again with his eyes closed. Steve watched him in amusement, bringing up the hem of his shirt to wipe away the sweat threatening to drip into his eyes. 

“One day,” Sam says casually, voice dangerously calm. He still doesn’t open his eyes. “I am going to tie your laces together. Or piss in your shoes. Maybe even put superglue on the bottoms. _Anything_ to make you stop kicking my ass. You’re a goddamn menace. What’d you do, kidnap the Road Runner and eat him?”

Steve pauses for a second and plops down onto the grass next to him, ankles crossing. “Well,” he offers helpfully. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think that would stop me considering I could just take them off. Once you’ve run around barefoot in 1940s New York City, I don’t think your feet can see much worse.” His tone is lighthearted, but Sam still peeks a resentful eye open at him. “Does that road runner comparison make you the Coyote?”

“Aht!” he cuts him off. “No ruining my plans, Rogers. _Or_ my metaphors. That’s just cruel. I’m wallowing in my defeat, the least you can do is let me plot in peace.”

Steve pretends to consider for a moment, snagging Sam’s water and gulping down a sip of his own. He smiles innocently at Sam’s mockingly outraged expression and snaps the lid closed. “Fine. But you still lost, so you know what that means,” he teases. 

Sam groans and sits up, cracking his neck to the side. “Yeah, yeah. Bagel shop owners must know me by name now, the amount of times I have to order,” he grumbles. Steve just laughs again and stands up, brushing the grass off the back of his bare thighs where his shorts have ridden up and offering a hand to Sam so he can help pull him up. 

“They might know you more from the whole _superhero_ thing, don’t you think?”

Bagels are part of their deal with the bet. It’s a race, of sorts- taking into account how Steve has the perks of the serum, if he finishes ten laps before Sam finishes five or vice versa, the loser (or _slowpoke_ as Bucky so helpfully likes to tease them despite rarely running with them at _all)_ has to buy the other breakfast from the bagel shop down the street.

It’s a nice place, pretty inexpensive but still pretty good (they have a blueberry asiago combo that sounds weird but Steve would _kill_ for) and the walk there is a pretty nice cool down. More often than not, they end up sitting in there and chatting, but based off of the way Steve’s t-shirt keeps sticking to his back from all the sweat dousing it, he thinks that today he might ask if they can take their order to go and eat at his place instead so he can change. Sam lives pretty nearby, anyways, he doesn’t think he’ll mind. 

It’s not that Sam _never_ wins these little bets (statistically, Steve doesn’t even know if that’d be possible). He does, on the odd occasion, but more times than not...well, Steve has the serum and what Bucky calls a “gazelle’s run”. He and Sam and Sharon like to make fun of him for ‘running on his toes’ apparently. They’ve tried to make jokes about him joining Natasha on the ballerina front more than once, and Steve is man enough to admit that those jokes dry up more out of fear from Natasha’s unimpressed looks than his own scowl. 

He absentmindedly pushes up and rocks back down on the balls of his feet while chasing those thoughts down to thr path of wondering what he’d look like in one of the pale pink leotards he’s seen in Natasha in before- the ones with the low cut backs and mesh skirt.

He likes to think he’d be able to pull it off. He has the back muscle to make it look nice, anyways, maybe he should see about ordering one? That’d probably lead to more teasing from Bucky since he’d be the only one seeing _this_ particular outfit but Steve thinks he’d come around to it. Come around to a _lot_ of-

“Rogers, are you coming or am I going to have to ‘last one there is a rotten egg’ you into getting a move on?”

Sam’s fondly exasperated voice breaks Steve out of his little reverie, resulting in a sheepish nod and brief jog in order to (for once) catch up to Sam where he’s turned around waiting for Steve to join him on the sidewalk towards the shop. He clears his throat. “Yeah, sorry. You mind if we get it to go, this time? I feel pretty disgusting, kinda want to change as soon as I can. My kitchen’s open, though, I can tell Buck to get some coffee started while we wait,” he offers. 

“Yeah, you smell pretty disgusting too,” Sam mutters, rolling his eyes at Steve’s sputter. “Hey, man, you know it’s true. Serum saved you from a lot of things, but BO was _not_ one of them.” He grins when Steve huffs and quickens his pace towards the crosswalk. “As long as Barnes uses the Starbucks brew, it’s fine by me.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He pulls his phone out while they wait for the light to change and give them the go-ahead and shoots Bucky a quick text with the request and news that Sam’ll be stopping by for brunch. 

_Okay_ , Bucky writes back after a moment. Steve has a suspicion he’s still in bed. _See you soon. I’ll probably be in the shower when you get here, but I’ll get things brewing- tell Wilson that his precious ⭐️🦌s will be waiting._

Steve snorts and waves off the side eye Sam gives him, hurrying up in typing his reply before the signal turns (he hasn’t quite mastered the ability of texting while walking yet). _Is that supposed to mean Starbucks?_

_It’s a star. And a buck. Get with the times, 🍯._

_Alright, 🦌._

That’s all he manages before they’re on their way across the street, but he grins wide anyways. 

“What?” Sam asks. 

Steve just smiles wider. “Bucky thinks he’s funny.”

Sam hums and takes a sip out of his water bottle as they stroll down the sidewalk. Thankfully it’s relatively early for too many people to be out, so no one recognizes or stops them, which Steve appreciates. Truth be told, he still misses Brooklyn sometimes but living in DC for hasn’t been half bad with Sam, Nat, and Sharon around. Steve guesses that’s what having actual _friends_ rather than just teammates is like. 

Sam swallows his water and finally responds. “He’s the only one, I guess.”

“Hey, that’s my boyfriend you’re badmouthing,” Steve jokingly protests, but he can’t help but smile after at Sam’s shrug. “He said he’s got the coffee brewing, so you better watch what you say about the man making your drink.”

“Like he’d poison anything the love of his life will be drinking along with me. He’s out of the assassin stage of your relationship, remember?”

Steve can’t keep the loud laugh back at that joke, even with the scandalized “ _God_ , Sam” that comes out after it as they make their way up to their intended destination. Sam just grins and shakes his head at the good natured shoulder shove Steve gives him before he opens the door and they both step inside. 

Joking already sidetracked, Steve’s eyes immediately flick up to the overhead menu and start taking their options in. He’s been here a million times and has an order pretty much set in place by now, but it never hurts to look. Just in case. He’s supposed to survey all his options and all, even if that’s more of an “in the field” thing rather than a “Saturday run with Sam” thing.

Still. Maybe he _wants_ to try a cinnamon toast bagel with cream cheese filling (as much as the idea appeals to him, he ends up going with his usual order. It’s almost lunch, after all). 

While Sam is ordering their ticket from the person behind the counter, Steve walks his way over to the cash register and glances down at the glass case that holds the typical cafe sweets- lemon bread, cake pops, croissants, a couple types of pastries, some slices of coffee cake. He idles by it, surveying the contents and sliding his phone out of his pocket to open his text chat with Bucky back up. 

_You want a cake pop?_ he types out. 

Again, Bucky’s response is immediate. _Yes please. What kinds do they have?_

Steve glances back at the case to check. It looks like they’ve got lemon, strawberry, and chocolate fudge according to the sign. He relays the options to Bucky and looks over to where Sam is still waiting on their orders while he waits for Bucky’s decision to come through. He only has to wait a moment before his phone is pinging again. 

_🍋, please._

Steve smiles to himself at Bucky’s dumb emoji antics before stepping forward to get in line. _One lemon cake pop on its way._

_Thanks, sweetheart. See you soon, I’m going to hop in the shower._

_Make sure you leave enough hot water for me,_ Steve shoots back. It’s a joke, but it’s also a real request. As much as Steve loves and adores his boyfriend, his habit of using all the hot water is annoying as hell (whenever Steve complains Bucky just always uses the opportunity to suggest Steve just start showering with him. As if he doesn’t do that half the time already). 

_I’ll try. No promises ;)._

Steve snorts. _You’re the worst._ He doesn’t have time to see if Bucky replies before he’s stepping up to the cash register and giving the man standing behind it a polite smile. “I’ll take three cake pops, please,” he says. Might as well get himself and Sam one, too. “One lemon, one strawberry, and one chocolate.” One of every flavor seems like the safe option, he’ll just take whatever one Sam doesn’t want, he’s not picky. 

By the time he’s got his pops bagged up and ready to go (he hopes they won’t melt too bad on the way home- it’s a short walk anyways) Sam has the rest of the food ready and waiting as well, paper bags clutched in the hand not holding his water bottle. He raises an eyebrow at Steve’s bounty. 

“I see three there. One of those for me?”

“If you quit insulting my boyfriend, sure,” Steve teases. Sam raises his eyebrows into a skeptical look. The bell rings as they both step back out onto the street, heat immediately making Steve groan with how his shirt and shorts start sticking back to his legs. Christ. “I’ve got strawberry and chocolate. Buck already has dibs on the lemon one.”

“Strawberry’s fine with me, thank you.” He holds Steve’s bagel bag out towards him with a mockingly rueful smile. “And here is your prize, Mr. America for being the world’s fastest pain in the ass.”

Steve takes the bag with a snort and starts walking alongside Sam towards the direction of his and Bucky’s apartment. “Thanks.”

“I would say that I’m the pain in _your_ ass, but I think that Barnes has that covered,” Sam says thoughtfully, cracking a grin at Steve’s side-eye about where this is going. “Supposedly if I were to strike a deal with him about tiring a certain someone out in a certain _way_ the night before our run…” he goes on suggestively. 

“Hey!” Steve interjects, cheeks heating up even under the ever present heat of the sun. “That’s cheating.” Sam laughs and Steve huffs but rolls his eyes along with him. Jesus, if this were anyone else- Christ, if even _Sam_ had joked with him like this a year ago, he’d be blowing his top (no pun intended). 

“I’m just saying- I don’t need to know the details, but if you’ve got a hitch in your step, I’ve got a better chance of winning. And that isn’t cheating, it’s called strategic maneuvering and taking advantage of the circumstances,” Sam insists. “You’re supposed to be an elite military tactician. Tell me this isn’t a good plan! It is.” He looks at Steve expectantly. 

Steve scuffs his sneaker along the sidewalk and tips his head. “It _is_ a good plan,” he admits reluctantly. “But it’s still unfair, using my own _boyfriend_ against me.” Like he said, he hates when the two of them gang up on him, but right now isn’t one of those times. He kind of likes the easy banter, even if he’s the one getting the worst of it this time. 

“We’d both be getting something out of it!” Sam gestures towards himself and then Steve with a cocky grin. “ _I_ would be winning, and _you_ would be getting laid.”

Steve squints and unsticks his t-shirt from his chest. Thankfully they’re almost to his apartment, he feels like he’s participating in a wet t-shirt contest he didn’t sign up for. “I already get laid,” he points out. Then, just to get back at Sam for bringing it up to begin with- “ _Frequently.”_

It works. Sam makes a face reminiscent of the one he had made the day Steve and Bucky had made him choke over brunch. “I said I didn’t need any details,” he complains. “C’mon, Rogers, I’m about to eat!”

“So I guess I shouldn’t tell you what’s been done on the counter you’re about to dine on?” Steve says innocently, busting out laughing at the death glare Sam throws them as they turn into Steve’s apartment complex towards the stairs. Steve and Bucky only live on the third floor, so the elevator is unnecessary. “I’m kidding, Sammy. The counter is safe.” He pauses and lets Sam’s face relax before going on. “The table probably isn’t, though.”

“That is _it,_ ” Sam groans. “We’re only eating dinner at Nat and Sharon’s from now on. If I’da known this is what you’d be like after you got the stick out of your ass about sex jokes, I never would have made one in the first place. I take it back.”

Steve busts out laughing and starts climbing the first flight of stairs with Sam trailing along grumpily behind him. “Neither of them can really make a meal, so have fun living without Bucky’s cooking. ‘Sides, that therapist you sent me to says loosening up is a sign of healing.” He turns and gives Sam his best puppy dog eyes. “Aren’t you happy for me, Sam?”

Sam huffs and continues climbing up the stairs. “ _Yes,_ ” he grits out. “I am _very_ happy you are happy. Believe me, I was ecstatic that you even agreed to see Dr. Stoll in the first place. But that doesn’t mean I want to hear about your wild kitchen sexcapades, Rogers. Save that sharing for your _actual_ therapist.”

His voice, while exasperated, is still genuine enough for Steve to know Sam means it about being happy for him. Not that he doubted that to begin with- Sam’s been nothing but kind to him even when Steve was still moping around like a kicked puppy when they first met- even _after_ being friends with Steve’s stick-in-the-mud self got him _way_ too involved in a national security matter he didn’t sign up for. 

Steve still feels a little bad about that, but Sam doesn’t seem to hold any grudges (even against Bucky, really) or regret it too much- Steve had tried to talk to him about feeling guilty for upending his life once after a particularly grueling therapy session, but Sam had put the quash on it with a firm “ _I appreciate the communication, Rogers. But it was my choice to get involved with you, and I am perfectly fine with where I ended up”_. Sam’s kind of great. Steve is happy now largely in part _because_ of him. 

Still, for the sake of keeping up the banter, he doesn’t share any of that in the moment, instead settling for a quip of “It was the dining room, not the kitchen” that Sam can’t even respond to before Steve is at his apartment door, unlocking it and dumping his keys on the entryway table as soon as he steps inside. “C’mon in, Sammy, I can smell the coffee already. Buck must still be in the shower, you mind taking the cake pops and sticking them in the fridge while I go change? I don’t want to eat them melted.”

Sam already knows where the kitchen is, so Steve doesn’t even need to point him in the right direction after he plucks the bags from Steve’s hold and heads over. “I’ve got it.”

“I’ll be just a minute!” Steve calls over his shoulder, turning to head towards the bedroom. He ends up shucking his shirt off before he’s even all the way there, sighing into the emptiness of the small hallway that leads to it and plopping the sweat soaked fabric into the hamper by their bedroom door after he crosses the threshold. He can hear the shower going in the bathroom attached to their bedroom, so he shuts the door behind him just in case Bucky steps out while Steve is still in here changing. He probably won’t, though. Bucky’s showers are almost indecently long, with all the hair treatments and shit he has stacked up alongside their tub. 

If Steve didn’t love him….

He sighs and shakes his head fondly over it, kicking out of his shorts and briefs as well, goosebumps pricking his now bare skin under the unpleasant dampness of sweat still left on him. Shivering a little at the nakedness, he walks over to their dresser and pulls out a clean pair of briefs that he steps into as quickly as he can.

It’s a little counterproductive, getting into clean clothes when he’s still not clean himself, but it’s better than sitting around in the ones he had on before. The serum makes him sweat like a mother _fucker_ sometimes. It’s laundry day, anyways, so he doesn’t hesitate in grabbing a clean cotton tank from the dresser, one of the loose ones that’s cut out a bit below his arms for breathability. As much as he likes wearing the tighter kind as well- the ribbed ones that never fail to make Bucky try to feel him up- these are Steve’s favorites to wear around the house, especially after workouts. They’re much more comfortable. 

And speaking of comfort- Steve glances over towards their closet and nudges the door open to peek inside to where he knows he has a shopping bag sitting on the floor. As for the contents of it…

Humming, he tugs his tank on and fans the loose fabric against his stomach for some air while bending over to pull out the yellow Nike tennis skirt that he knows is sitting inside, tags still on. He picks it up and surveys the length for a second before shrugging and bringing it up to snap the plastic of the tags off with his teeth (he is _not_ wasting time to go get scissors). It’s new, but he wanted to wash it today, anyway. Might as well wear it and save the trouble of having to wash another. 

He always likes wearing skirts after workouts. They’re comfortable, give him room to breathe in a way that looks (and feels) better than just plain old basketball shorts, and although he’s still sweaty, that doesn’t mean he can’t feel a bit pretty as well. 

While Steve isn’t exactly _that_ open about his love for wearing skirts with many people, he doesn’t really have any qualms about casually doing it in front of Sam at this point in their friendship. In front of Stark? That’d be a different story because Steve _knows_ he’d get incessantly teased even if Tony didn’t have a real problem with it, and Tony’s brand of teasing isn’t exactly as lighthearted as Sam’s is.

It gets under Steve’s skin in a way that hurts rather than makes him laugh even after Rhodey or Pepper usually steps in. So, wearing skirts in front of Tony is a no-go. It’s not like he’d ever really have the occasion to do that, anyways. Tony doesn’t come to their apartment in DC very often and Steve doesn’t tend to wear skirts outside the house at all. 

It’s a different story with Sam- he’s over all the time now that Steve and Bucky are taking the summer to live down in DC, as are Natasha and Sharon- and although it had been painfully nerve wracking the first time Steve let Sam see him wear a skirt around the apartment when he came over to force Steve to make his way through the Star Wars prequels, he knew deep down that it’d turn out alright.

Sam has seen Steve at some of his worst moments, had sat with him through the process of trying to find Bucky and then the process of watching him heal after his return, has shared plenty of his own privacies and low moments with Steve regarding his relationship with and grief over Riley.

He knows that Bucky will always be who he calls his best friend- his _first_ friend- but Sam is in some ways closer to Steve than even Bucky is. They’ve shared so much of the same grief, had each others’ backs in situations where they had no one else, given each other shit throughout it all- never afraid to call each other out no matter how much other people would have balked having the share the unpleasant truth...Bucky might be Steve’s best friend and the love of his life, but Sam? Sam is like his brother. 

(Which makes the memory of their initial flirtation a bit awkward to now consider. Hey- Steve was just trying to take Natasha’s advice and put himself out there- and it _worked._ Approximately two days later, Bucky reappeared, so it wasn’t all for naught.)

Even aside from all that- Sam’s just generally a good guy. He’s never made fun of Steve for the skirts outside of the lighthearted ribbing that he _still_ spared Steve from until he got more comfortable in his own skin (and skirt) around him like that. Bared and a little bit vulnerable. Like Sam had said himself earlier- he’s happy that Steve is happy. This is part of what makes Steve happy, just like Sam and Bucky and their friends are. He’s self aware enough to know there’s a pretty palpable difference in his attitude and morale now that he’s able to surround himself with people he’s comfortable enough to express himself around. 

So, while Steve doesn’t typically wear any of his especially dainty or pretty skirts around Sam (something about those feel oddly too special to share with anyone but Bucky, not to mention some of them are really just...too _short_ for decent company) he doesn’t even need to pause to think about it before he’s stepping into the yellow fabric of his newly de-tagged tennis skirt, shoving the bag it was in back into the closet, slapping on some extra deodorant, and making his way back out to where Sam is sitting in the kitchen, tucking his tank top into the waistband of his skirt all the while. 

Sam glances up when he sees the bright color of Steve’s skirt out of his peripheral vision. He doesn’t bat an eye, just quirks an eyebrow and pulls his bagel out of its bag, apparently waiting until Steve came to join him to start eating. There are two cups of coffee sitting on the counter in front of him, one next to Steve’s bag.

“That is the fifth Nike skirt I have seen you wear in the past two weeks. What sale did you hit to have ten colors of the same skirt, Rogers? And _all_ name brand?” he exclaims. Steve rolls his eyes and slides next to Sam onto a countertop stool. “You better send me some of those coupons you’ve been using, man.”

“Hey, I can’t give out all my secrets to you,” Steve says mildly, meeting Sam’s betrayed look with a grin. “Fine, I’ll hit you up next time I see a sale.”

“You better with how often I waste my money buying you bagels,” Sam mutters, taking a sip of coffee and sighing into it when Steve responds by taking a pointed crunch into the bagel in question. “Oh, so that’s how we’re playing this? I should suggest my winning plan to Barnes while I’m here, see if he takes the deal.”

“Suggest what to me?” Bucky asks. 

The two of them turn around just in time to see him sidle into the kitchen, damp hair up on a bun on top of his head, beard freshly trimmed. He’s in a pair of soft grey sweats and cut off black tank that’s similar to Steve’s own, and he looks so bright eyed and fresh and good that Steve can’t help but smile bright and lean back into the arm the Bucky places around the back of his chair when he comes over to sneak a bite of Steve’s bagel. He lets him have it, like he always does. 

“Hey, Wilson. You kick my boyfriend’s ass this morning or did he whoop up on you again?” Bucky’s chin tucks its way against the top of Steve’s hair, and Steve can feel him smile at Sam’s responding scowl. 

“I can’t help that you’re dating a speed demon,” he complains.

“Mm, yeah. Little bit of a se-“ 

Steve cuts Bucky off before he can get out the “ _sex demon”_ joke he knows is coming. “Good morning, Buck.” Sam still rolls his eyes at them both, so the interruption probably didn’t do much good, but at least he didn’t choke on his coffee this time. 

Bucky nuzzles at Steve’s hair for a moment before leaning his head down and kissing Steve’s cheek. “Morning, sunshine.” Then, seeming to notice the bright yellow pleats against Steve’s thighs and using warm fingers to tug down the hem where it was flipped up- “This one new?” 

Steve doesn’t even get a real chance to answer before Bucky is lifting his fingers to tilt Steve’s chin to the side for a sweet welcome home kiss. Steve can taste the blueberry from his bagel on Bucky’s lips, tongue flicking out to lick it off and making Bucky hum against him. It’s sweet, and warm, and-

...Interrupted by Sam launching back into his “ _how many colors, Rogers?_ ” scandalization. Steve can’t help but laugh into his and Bucky’s kiss, head lolling back and to the opposite side to face Sam and answer, lips still red. 

“You don’t even wanna _know,_ Sammy.”

Sam takes a bite of his bagel and gives them both a side eye, Bucky picking up Steve’s coffee and sipping at it. “Are we talking double or triple digits?”

Steve makes a face. “Double- Jesus, you think I have more than a hundred of these? I’m not even sure our closet could hold that much clothing.”

“Not with all your shit, Rogers,” Bucky says mildly, squawking when Steve snatches his coffee back and downs the rest in retaliation. “Hey!”

“As if your skinny jeans and boots don’t take up just as much space, Barnes,” Steve points out. “Go get your own coffee, you made more than enough.”

Bucky pouts, but does as suggested, glaring at Sam’s amused expression. “Fine. Cake pops in the fridge? Forecast said it was hot as hell outside.”

“They are. Grab them all out for me, will you?”

“You got it.”

While Bucky busies himself getting more coffee, Sam turns back to Steve and starts up their conversation again. “I almost had your time beat today, anyways.”

“Almost but not quite,” Steve teases, dusting crumbs off of his fingers. “I’m starting to feel like I’m taking advantage of you, Samuel.”

“So what’s wrong with my plan to give myself a leg up? It’s starting to sound like you don’t want Barnes to-“

“Sam,” Steve complains, cheeks flushing. _Here_ is where he’s about to mind them ganging up on him. It’s inevitable now that Sam has piqued Bucky’s interest. 

“Don’t want Barnes to _what,_ exactly?” Bucky says, returning back to the counter and sitting himself down on the third stool next to Steve. “I’ll admit, I’m feeling a little bit left out of the loop here.” He looks at Steve. “There something you’re not telling me?”

Sam grins at him triumphantly from the other side and Steve groans, tilting his head back and looking at the ceiling. God, these two make his life _miserable_ just as much as they make it worth living. He knows Bucky won’t leave it alone now until someone tells him, nosy little shit.

“Samuel thinks that striking a deal with you about certain things _we_ do in the bedroom is what _he_ needs to do to win our weekly bet,” he finally says, voice prim, hands folded in his lap against his skirt. “ _My_ solution is that he just needs to stop making bets that he probably won’t win.”

Sam clutches his heart dramatically. “Steve Rogers, aren’t you supposed to believe in the little guy? Never thought I’d see the day where you’d encourage someone to stop a fight just because they might not win it!”

Bucky snorts in agreement and nods while taking a munch out of his procured cake pop. “Yeah, Stevie. C’mon, be a good sport, huh? Is his plan really that bad?”

Steve glares at Bucky and snatches his own cake pop out of the bag, passing Sam’s down at the same time. “If I say yes?”

“Then I guess we’ll never know if you can still win even at a disadvantage,” Sam offers before Bucky can say anything too lewd. He’s goading him into another bet. 

Steve hates that it’s working. Unfortunately, it _always_ works. Has since the forties. 

“Why couldn’t we try a different disadvantage?” he complains. “Like- bad shoes. Or having Natasha shoot at me while I run,” he suggests hopefully. 

Unfortunately he forgot to consider that the people he’s talking to are hopeless morons. 

“Could try making you run naked, but that’d probably just make you go faster,” Sam muses. “And I doubt you’d want to run around Prospect Park in a skirt...”

Steve crosses his arms and scowls. “Could kick your ass even in my skirt, Wilson,” he says.

“Alright, Marilyn Monroe- but you’d better make sure you have something on under it before we get back out there and see who is kicking whose ass,” Sam teases, voice light. 

Steve gives him a haughty look anyways just for the effect. “I’ll have you know Marilyn Monroe is one of my heroes,” he says, biting at his cake pop. “She was a very admirable lady.”

That part is true, even if the idea of him racing Sam in a skirt isn’t. She was a very kickass woman, and reportedly queer to boot. Steve likes her a lot, especially since Bucky got him a book about her for his birthday. Bucky now laughs and slings his arm back around Steve’s shoulders, breath smelling like lemons when he kisses his cheek. 

Sam tips his head in acknowledgment and takes a bite of his own, chewing through a sigh. “I guess I’m just doomed to find another way to slow you down, then,” he laments. “Maybe I’ll have Red-Wing help me out. Make you have to duck and run.”

Steve points at Sam with the stick of his half eaten pop. “Cheating!”

“Rogers, I told you, it’s _strategic maneuvering._ ”

“Tell that to my dust when I kick your ass next week too, Wilson.”

They spend only another few minutes bickering over the logistics and legality of Sam’s suggestions (thank _god_ ), conversations eventually turning to whose turn it is to host movie night this month and whether Fury approved Bucky and Steve time off for their anniversary.

By the end of it, Steve is leaned back in his chair against Bucky’s arm feeling content to just listen to the two of them talk about whatever mission they’re heading together next week- he warm and full and tuckered out enough from the run to not have much to add to the conversation besides a few hums and laughs in the right places, and eventually Bucky seems to notice.

He pets at Steve’s hair a little and lets Steve tip his head back into his palm while he arches up into a stretch and a yawn. 

“Looks like he’s tired enough for you to probably beat him right now if you wanted to try,” he jokes lightly. Steve just rolls his eyes and yawns again. 

“Probably,” Sam says with a smile. “But I’m a bit worn out myself. Probably should head home and shower, anyways.” He nods to Bucky, then stands and claps Steve gently on the back. “See you next week?”

Steve smiles lazily back and gives him a nod. “Same time, same place. Better luck next time, pal.”

“Oh, I won’t need _luck,_ ” Sam scoffs, tossing his bags into the kitchen trash before grabbing his water and heading towards the door. He turns before he steps out and gives the two of them a mocking salute. “Thanks for having me.”

“Thanks for coming,” Bucky echoes. “See you at work.”

“See you, Barnes.” And then he’s gone.

After the door clicks shut behind him and the apartment grows silent, Bucky breaks it by sliding out of his chair and hauling Steve up with him, laughing when he immediately slumps back against the granite and refuses to move. “C’mon, speed demon. You’re not supposed to be the slowpoke here, remember?”

Steve just shakes his head and pulls Bucky in to stand against him so he can tuck his head into the crook of his neck. “I can be whatever I want,” he grumps. “And right now I am _tired._ ”

“Too tired to give me a proper kiss now that the company is gone?”

Steve lifts his head and gives Bucky an unimpressed look. “Never too tired for that, Buck, you know it.”

Bucky smiles back and leans his forehead against Steve’s where his hair is still mussed up from sweat. “And that’s why I said it. C’mere and give me a kiss so we can get you moving.”

Despite having exactly 0 intentions of moving, Steve complies, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck and leaning into the kiss, happily letting Bucky take it over while he’s still wiped out. Something about the combination of exercise and being full just makes him feel drained, even with the coffee.

Luckily, Bucky doesn’t seem to mind the pliancy, even enjoys it once Steve lets him haul his legs up around his waist and lift up until he’s got Steve set on the counter with the kiss still going and Steve’s skirt bunched up between them. 

When they do finally break apart, it’s unsurprisingly Bucky that speaks first. “You want to get a headstart on Wilson’s master plan, or are you too tired for that too?”

Steve groans and lets Bucky smooth the hem of his skirt out on his hips while he decides. “Please don’t talk about our friends when you’re trying to have sex with me, Buck. It’s distracting.”

“Fine, I’ll ask plain this time,” Bucky teases, hand sliding up under the fabric he just fixed. “You wanna have sex with me?”

Steve pretends to consider. “Right here or in the bed?”

Bucky snorts. “Well, I was thinking the bed, but here’s fine too if you want.” He gropes his other hand on Steve’s pec through the cutout arms of his tank top. “Whatever you want is fine, sweetheart.”

Mind flashing back to his earlier banter with Sam, Steve smiles sleepily and leans his head and torso back so Bucky can blanket over him to kiss his neck, bodies growing interested between them. “Here’s fine,” he says.

Bucky doesn’t question the smugness in his voice, just kisses his chin and moves to reach between them. Steve interrupts him before he can get his hand anywhere near the drawstrings of his pants-

“Take my skirt off, it’s new and I am _not_ about to stain it the first time I wear it for a kitchen quickie, Barnes.”

“Christ, I was getting there, Stevie. Gimme a sec, won’t you?” Bucky breathes out, but he does as Steve asks and slides it off, Steve helping him along the way by lifting his hips until the skirt is tossed somewhere on the floor behind them and Bucky his back to trying to get his own pants down. 

It’s only when Steve sees the pale pink of the CK’s Bucky’s got on that he remembers another earlier thought he’d had as well. 

He pulls back from the kiss Bucky is planting on him and crosses his ankles behind his back, toes pointing. “How would you feel about me getting a leotard, Buck?”

The teasing he knows that’ll be coming later is nowhere to be sees as Bucky groans and lets his hands encircle Steve’s waist like he’s already imagining what it’d be like to carry him into one of the lifts they’ve both seen done in Natasha’s recitals a million times before. 

“Jesus, sunshine,” he mutters. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack, putting images like that in my head.”

“That a yes?” Steve asks breathlessly, hands digging into Bucky’s back while Bucky groans again. 

“ _Yes_ , Stevie.” There’s a pause. “You wanna make a bet on who’s gonna come first?”

“Bucky.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I love you, but please shut up and kiss me before I change my mind about letting you fuck me.”

“I love you back, Stevie.”

**Author's Note:**

> i am begging for comments and feedback as usual !! i very much hope you like skirt steve as much as i adore him because i think he deserves the world.


End file.
